Scott Cave

The Toil of Time

 

The brook is whispering to me,

The water breathing upon the rocks,

Calling me to lie beside them,

To close my eyes,

To breathe deeply: to forget.

An old rotted tree falls,

Just beyond the brook,

A deer softly crunches the leaves

Of the fallen tree,

Testing the air with its’ nose,

Drawing ever closer to me.

 I open my eyes and see before me

The eyes of the dear

Staring back, wondering.

I close my eyes,

The sound of the brook filling my head,

Numbness spreading over me,

Consuming me.

Release is crying to me,

Letting go of the pain etched into me,

The fear that has haunted me for so long,

It’s grip loosening from me,

Oh… sweet release.

I have lived as long as I dare,

For only pain awaits me,

Hopelessness is all that is forward

Backward is rage and sorrow.

The moment is what the moment is,

Gone from me, they all are

I open my eyes once again,

Ants have started a long line

Never ending, ceaseless

An army with one purpose,

Single-minded in it’s course,

The trail has started over me,

Like a belt cinched to tight…purpose,

A bird swoops down,

Disintegrating the belt,

There purpose gone,

Wandering off like an errand left to be done.

Disinterested the bird steps to the brook

For cold water is heaven on the lips of nature,

It dips its’ wings into the water,

Spraying droplets upon my face,

Like tears rolling onward to oblivion,

I blink naught, faceless…

My finger reaches to the surface of the stillest pool

Shattering beneath my touch,

Undulating, forgetful of its’ perfectness

Of its’ stillness,

I lift a stone from the brook,

Rounded from its’ pain,

Curved smooth by its’ years of toil

Small fractures, where it has just given in

And let time take its’ course with it

I will walk no more

Numbness is my companion,

Unable to release what is mine,

For years I have become this rock

Smoothed and fractured

Crumbling… wasting

There are no pieces to put back together

Like all the stones stretching backwards from this brook

One has become many

And the water has worn away the edges

Until there is no possibility of finding away to put it together

So are the seeds of my life

Worn away by the water,

Broken by time and struggle and strife

Scattered, forgotten

I have become this brook

And like these rocks

I have given into time

The only answers are those in this water

Insistent, ceaseless, pressing onward

Wearing down layers of protection

Until there is nothing at all

Nothing to signify an ending or a beginning

Nothing to ever say it was there.

If I had the will to scream

Or the strength to cry

Or the desire to walk beyond this brook

Over that next hill

I am always reminded of the stones

In this small brook,

To close my eyes against the glaring of the light,

To forget my place in this world,

Whatever that was,

Wherever it was supposed to be

Has lost all consistency

Edging closer to it,

Finding comfort in nothingness

In peace, the last breath escaping from me

Eyes slitting slightly,

Heart that once beat its’ purpose upon my chest

Ceaseless, driving me onward

Now slows its’ progression its’ charade,

The blood that flowed through me slows its’ dance

And I find comfort in it

Peace… I feel her wings upon me

I feel her take me into her arms

And her tears on my cheeks

And her voice calling me home

I have no strength to open my eyes

Nor the will to smile,

Maybe beyond the next hill,

She whispers to me,

You shall find what you seek

But deep down inside

I am always reminded of this brook

And the toil of time…

 

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